


Lost Boys

by amyoatmeal



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 80s movies, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Fraternity, Bad Boy Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester Flirting, Drinking, Flirting, Halloween Costumes, M/M, One Shot, Pop Culture, Smoking, Socially Awkward Castiel (Supernatural), halloween party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 02:47:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21263810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amyoatmeal/pseuds/amyoatmeal
Summary: An overwhelmed Castiel is dragged to a Halloween frat party by his well-intentioned friend Charlie when he decides he needs to get some fresh air.





	Lost Boys

**Author's Note:**

> don't ask me what this is because I DON'T KNOW OK lol. it's just a party scene that's been sitting in my docs forever and i decided to let it see the light of day. i can't keep things simple to save my life so this was my best attempt.

“Listen,” Charlie shouted close to Castiel’s ear, her hand gripping the bend of his elbow, “I’m gonna go get us some drinks, okay? Don’t go anywhere!” 

“Okay.” He gulped, but met Charlie’s well-intentioned face and nodded before she integrated herself amongst the throng of moving bodies. 

Disappearing into the depths of the fraternity house, she vowed more to herself than to Castiel, “I swear I’m going to get you to live a little even if it kills me.”

Awkwardly, he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his torn jeans and pinched his leg a few times to ground himself, each time harder than the last. Just to convince himself he was actually here, this was actually happening. Castiel James Novak was at a fucking frat party and he hated himself for that fact alone, but he was kind of an adult, same as anybody here (if not more), and he was old enough now not to get a swirly just for existing. Surely he could do this. If not only for Charlie, than to prove a point to himself. He just wasn't sure what the point was.

Castiel scanned the scene with lost, wide eyes. Deer in headlights would be putting it mildly. The blaring sound of the synthesizer flooded his ears and the suffocating way people bumped up against him were enough to make him want to bolt. 

And he waited, arms crossing protectively across his chest as he made himself small in the corner of the foyer. 

Charlie couldn’t have been gone more than a few minutes before a shorter woman in a ‘sexy’ witch costume appeared in front of him with a sly smile on her face. 

“You seem like you could use a friend,” she purred, leaning into his personal space. She smelled like straight vodka and the eyeliner around her eyes was smudged down her cheeks as if she’d cried at least once already.

“Um,” Castiel choked out, looking at a vague spot over her shoulder, “I-- Maybe?” That had been the whole point Charlie dragged him here, hadn’t it? “My name is Castiel,” he added as an afterthought.

“Well, I know I could, so what d’you say?” She held out her hand between them as an offering.

“I’m not supposed to go anywhere,” he told her, but that just caused a laugh to erupt from her deep inside her stomach.

“Says who?”

Castiel scanned the room again to no avail. Charlie was nowhere to be found. Uselessly, he dropped his arms by his side, fidgeting with the hem of his too-short shirt, and despite every fibre in his being not wanting the contact, he took the slightly sweaty hand in his. “Okay,” he repeated, though a question lingered his wavering voice. “Where to?”

Her lazy smile spread wider. “We’re gonna have a good time, Clarence,” she drunkenly slurred, and before Castiel could correct her on the name, she was gripping his hand tighter and using it to tug him through the crowd towards the stairs.

***

Castiel pushed his way through to where he assumed was the back door. The house was suffocating him. He couldn’t breathe and the booming sound system was almost deafening once he emerged from the random bedroom he’d been dragged to. He didn’t know much about music, of course, but he knew this was nowhere close to it despite whatever Charlie said to the contrary. When he found the back door located in the kitchen, he quickly closed himself off to the offensive racket with a deep, gulping inhale. 

It was sweet relief when he sucked in a lungful of the crisp October air and released it, creating a plume of fog from his chapped lips. The smell of falling leaves overpowered the smell of beer and sweat and for the first time all night Castiel felt like he could breathe again. This couldn’t be what ‘living’ was like. Castiel had gone his whole life without these experiences and he couldn’t say he felt like he’d been missing out on anything. He’d take another high school swirly or a wedgie any day of the week if it meant he never had to attend another event like this in his college career. She knew how he felt about frat bros too, and yet here they were attending the Alpha Sigma Phi annual Halloween Bash.

Seating himself down on the back steps next to a poorly carved jack-o-lantern, he placed his cup of water between his thighs and mindlessly thumbed at a loose thread on the ripped knee of his jeans, eyes gazing up at the night sky. Though, in this moment, he couldn’t help but notice the stars weren’t as bright this close to the city.

He’d only been outside for perhaps five minutes, before the music was swelling behind him once more. The opening notes of Michael Jackson’s Thriller pumping through the house. It faded out again just as quickly. There was some rustling of a leather jacket behind him and the telltale flicking of a lighter before the pervasive smell of cigarette smoke wafted in his general direction. 

The person behind him let out a soft grunt as they sat themselves down on a higher step. “Hey there, lonely girl,” the guy behind him greeted with a sigh. His voice was tired and teasing, and just this side of sober, but Castiel didn’t get the joke. 

“Lonely girl?” 

He didn’t bother to turn his head, choosing to rest against the railing as he continued brood out here in the dark. He knew it was rude not to, but he was desperately trying to maintain his own serenity out here and poor jokes at his expense, that he didn’t understand, weren’t helping.

“Big Fun,” the guy said in way of explanation.

Castiel looked down at the ill fitting t-shirt he borrowed from Charlie and registered it was supposed to mean something. “Oh.” Self-consciously, he zipped his sweatshirt and crossed his arms over his knees.

They sat in silence for a moment, save for the sloshing of beer as the other boy pulled a drink from the neck of his bottle. Without much thought, Castiel irritably asked him, “You do know smoking is bad for your health, don’t you?” 

Normally he would just ignore it, but he was already irked at having been dragged here in the first place and now he couldn’t even escape for more than five minutes of solitude.

The boy huffed out a short laugh. “Didn’t know we had a doctor in the house.” 

His voice was a rough, smoky timbre and it reminded Castiel of the crackling of firewood. Though, he didn’t think one needed to be a medical professional to be informed of the health risks that cigarette smoking could pose. 

“I’m not a doctor,” Castiel assured.

“Yeah? No kidding. Look more like E.T. in that sweatshirt.” 

“E.T.?”

The boy let out a soft snort. “What, you tellin’ me you never done anything that wasn’t good for you?”

“Why would I do something knowing it’s bad for me?”

“Your type?” He hummed. “Well, you wouldn’t, I guess.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. They sat in silence again for approximately one minute more before Castiel raised his water to his lips.

The boy released a long exhale of blown smoke. “What’s your poison?”

“I’m sorry?” Castiel had no idea what that meant and it was evident in the tone of his voice.

Another snort. “What’re you drinkin’?” 

Oh. 

Castiel stared into his cup and debated with himself upon whether or not he should lie. Charlie would probably encourage it, but lying was wrong. 

He decided to tell the truth. “I believe it’s called water.” That earned him an actual laugh, though Castiel wasn’t sure if he was being laughed at for drinking water or for making a joke. 

“Water, huh?” All of a sudden, Castiel was being nudged in the arm by a hand offering out a half-drank bottle of amber liquid. “You wanna try my beer?”

Placing his water on the step beside him, Castiel lightly gripped the beer bottle and awkwardly shifted himself around on the step. Unsure, he lifted his head to meet the boy’s gaze and offer him ritual thanks whichever way he decided, but he was caught off guard by the face before him. His eyes were bright even by the glow of the porch light, a single, silver angel wing glinting as it dangled from his ear lobe, and he was looking at Castiel intently. A gentle smirk pulled at the corner of his lips revealed a curious set of party store vampire fangs affixed to his teeth. The smirk only widened as Castiel caught himself lingering on them. 

Clearly not oblivious to the effect he had on people, then.

Castiel blinked his attention away and mumbled a small, “thank you,” before more firmly grabbing hold of the proffered beer. 

He was watching him expectantly now, bright eyes flicking back and forth between the mouth of the bottle and Castiel’s own, but Castiel didn’t actually want the beer. Then he reminded himself that he was supposed to be ‘living’ and this is what everyone else seemed to define it as anyway. 

It couldn’t hurt to try it, he reasoned. 

So he did. 

He gently tipped the bottle back and closed his eyes to block out the sight of the boy peering at him through his haze of cigarette smoke. The beer tasted bad. It was that simple. His face scrunched up in disdain as he swallowed it back. And he really wasn’t sure why this drink was so popular. He’d probably find urine more preferable.

The guy laughed at him again, flicking his cigarette. “So, Doc,” he started, taking a slow drag and exhale, “I’ll bite. Why you sittin’ out here all by yourself? Tryin’ to phone home or somethin’?”

Castiel squinted and tilted his head in confusion. He didn’t even own a phone. The other boy looked like he was fighting back another laugh. The first question was one he could answer though. 

“I came out here to be alone, actually.” 

“Oh, yeah? How come?” He asked, “You usually come to parties to escape?”

“Well, this ‘music’ is awful. And… Because a few girls wanted me to perform sexual acts with them and I… suppose I needed some air.” He found himself taking another small, experimental sip from the bottle, just because it seemed like the appropriate thing to do, and he noted the way those green eyes lingered on his lips, now shining wet with beer.

“They don’t have water or music where you’re from? What planet was that again?”

Castiel didn’t reply to the obvious ribbing. 

The rest of the words seemed to catch up with him as he looked mildly impressed. Leaning back on his elbows, he asked, “How many girls we talkin’ here, Doc?”

Castiel rolled his eyes at the nickname, but at least it was better than E.T. “At least three,” he said with a huff.

Dean emitted a low, impressed whistle. “Pretty sure you were just invited to a friggin’ orgy or something, buddy, so why the hell are you sittin’ out here with my dumb ass when you could be doin’ at least three other things?”

“Technically, I was here first so you’re the one that’s out here sitting with me,” he countered, brow raised.

He quirked his lips, almost like a smile, with a slow nod, “Touche.” 

“And I… wasn't interested. In the girls, I mean,” Castiel mumbled. 

“Not interested, huh.” His face was calculating. Suddenly, he shifted his cigarette into his left hand and held the right down to Castiel. “Name’s Dean. But tonight I guess you can call me Michael.”

“Michael?”

He gestured down to his ensemble. “Yeah, you know. One of the Lost Boys,” he explained away the jacket and the earring, but Castiel wasn’t knowledgeable about the film and it didn’t seem important. Something about vampires.

“Wait.” He narrowed his eyes into slits. “Dean Winchester, I presume?” 

“The one and only. We know each other or somethin’?”

“You have a class with my friend Charlie.”

At the mention of her name, Dean’s face morphed into something more genuine, less cocky. “Yeah, we get on great. Ran into her in the kitchen earlier getting drinks, sorry if you were waiting on her, but there was a game of beer pong going on and I was losing. Needed the backup. You get it, right?”

Castiel sized him up where he sat and he seemed earnest enough, but it still didn’t sit right with him. “Charlie’s a nice girl and I know your type, you don’t have a chance--”

Dean cut him off. “Nah, you know what you think you know about me. Guarantee I’m not whoever that douche is. So this is me, introducing myself to you, and my name’s Dean.” He shifted his awaiting hand for emphasis. “And you are?”

Castiel stared at it for a long moment like it was a trap, before taking it into his own. It was warm and slightly calloused, maybe a little damp from the condensation on his beer, but nothing like the sweaty palms of the witch that dragged him upstairs earlier. He found he liked this one more than he reasonably should. For a frat bro, anyway.

“Castiel,” he replied with a tight swallow, locking eyes with him again. 

With Dean.

He could feel his face heating up at the contact combined with the way Dean’s sole focus was directed at him. Into him.

Dean smiled and the brightness matched that of his eyes. “Castiel,” he repeated, letting his hand slip away. “Nice name for a space alien. It suits you.” He took his last few pulls on his cigarette before putting it out with the sole of his shoe.

Warmth crept up Castiel’s cheeks at the remark; he wasn’t used to receiving compliments, however backhanded. Not especially from someone like Dean. He found he craved more, but before he could say ‘thank you’, the music swelled again and a guy sporting a mullet and in a long wool coat peeked his head out of the crack in the door. “There you are, Asshole! Couple of us are headin’ down to the Roadhouse and we were hopin’ you weren’t too shit-faced to give us a ride...” 

Dean swiveled his head and heaved an exaggerated sigh at the request. “Yeah, fine, but you fuckin’ owe me, Ash! I’ve driven your ass around at least five times this week. So either pay up or you’re buyin’!” 

Ash brushed it off and said, “Bendy Lisa will be there,” like some sort of bribe as he wagged his eyebrows, receiving an eye roll and a chuckle from Dean, and then he disappeared back into the house. 

Castiel thought that was a terrible nickname for more than one reason. “Another Lost Boy?” he presumed.

“Ash?” Dean chuckled. “Nah, he just looks like that.” He muttered something about “freakin’ mullets” that Castiel couldn’t really hear. 

“You’re leaving?” Castiel found himself asking, much to his own surprised dismay. 

“Sure, looks like it.” Abruptly, he stood from the steps and lightly brushed off the back of his jeans. He fumbled around in his jacket pocket for a moment, extracting a jingling set of car keys. 

“Will you be back?”

“Now, Castiel, would you like me to come back for you?”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “I didn’t say that,” he huffed.

“Cuz you know, I _could_. If you wanted. Be your knight in dirty leather and save you from this hell hole. Whaddya say, Doc? You wanna come with?”

“I’ll be fine,” he murmured, scrubbing the back of his neck to hide his blush.

“Suit yourself.” Dean grinned down at him where he stood on the back steps. “Keep the beer,” he said. 

He started for the door, but he stopped before turning the handle. Looking back down to him, Dean’s eyes raked over him slowly, taking him all in, as he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth. “See ya around, Cas,” he added with a mischievous smirk. It sounded like a promise.

And then he was gone before Castiel could even blink.


End file.
